


To Be a Good Brother (You Have to Let Them Go)

by Syran



Series: Robin Reverse AU [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Batman and Robin (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Bat Brothers, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne is Good at Feelings, Damian Wayne is a good brother, Dick Youngest, Gen, Light Angst, Reverse Chronology, Sequel, Terry Finds Out the Truth, Terry's Oldest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-07 16:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14674668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syran/pseuds/Syran
Summary: Terry discovered something life altering. It has him questioning, just what it takes to be a good brother. Yet it's Damian that get's the answer that he never wanted to hear.





	1. I'm Just Like Him

**Author's Note:**

> Another Reverse AU fic. The boys are older now. Terry's 22 and Damian is 20. Dickie, Wally and Kaldur just freed Conner and the two older birds are called in to clean up the mess. (Just so you know the sequence of things) 
> 
> Although the other birds are going to be in the fic, this really focuses on Terry and Dami and how they've grown since the first fic. 
> 
> PLEASE READ PREVIOUS FIC OR YOU WILL BE LOST!!!
> 
> Anywany, please enjoy

Damian looked on from the rooftops as emergency personal scattered across the devastated  street below. The road had caved in on itself, leaving a crater in the center. He watched as firemen and police officers tripped over each other in a vain attempt to contain the wreckage. Damian frowned. They were just wasting their time. The truth has already come to the light. His youngest brother ensured that. Apparently, his partner thought the same. “Why are they still around,” Terrance or “Terry” sounded from over Damian’s shoulder, “Isn’t the big secret already out of the bag?” The other man was draped leisurely along the width of Damian’s shoulders as Damian crouched in front. “You can’t have a bigger secret than a Superman clone, ya know,” he said with a shrug.

Damian tsked after Terry spoke. “That’s why we’re here, brother,” he spoke, “To find out.” He nudged his shoulder slightly, signaling for his brother to move. Terry instantly took the signal and stood at attention. Damian was on the move, then that meant that the other saw an opening. They leapt from the roof and dipped into the night.

\----

The two touched down, the red floor of the destroyed CADMAS facility surprisingly gooey under their feet. “Dame, what the hell is this stuff,” Terry whispered. He lifted his foot and a sticky red substance came with. It attached to his boots, staining his soles red. “It’s like blood or something,” he spoke as he pressed his finger onto his soles. His gloves came away moist. “Gross,” he mumbled as he shook his hand, “You don’t think it’s Dickie’s, do you?”

“Concentrate,” Damian snapped, but his mind ran. Despite his demeanor, he was worry about Dick as well. Bruce said that Dick’s unapproved mission was a success, but Damian came home with enough broken bones after a successful mission to know how little injuries mattered to Bruce when determining success. Terry has too. Damian sighed quietly, letting the worry roll off his shoulders. Though he was upset, it didn’t pay to let it show now. So instead he donned his tough persona. “We didn’t train a weakling,” he said sharply as he rolled his masked eyes. “And I’ve been telling you for years,” he continued as he peeked into an useless room, “Codenames on the field, Nightwing!”

“I guess you’re right there,” Terry conceded, “ _Nightingale_.” He tugged on the darkened red stripe that ran the length of his arms and chest. “But you gotta admit,” he said as he poked at his sole once more, “You _are_ kinda worried.”

Damian gave him a hard glaring before deflating.  “You’re right,” he finally agreed, “It is pretty worrying.” Terry gave him a teasing smile for his confession. The elder knew how much Damian couldn’t stand expressing himself. This was doubly true during a mission. He felt that he got one over on Damian and the satisfaction showed on his smugly pulled back lips.

Damian growled at Terrance’s amused smile, nibbling his inner-lip to stop himself from smiling in return. They didn’t come here to have fun, and they were worried for their little brother’s wellbeing, yet it was hard to remind Damian of this when he was with his brother. The man had a way of turning anything into a friendly competition… or a fight. “Just hurry up,” Damian spoke once his own amusement finally calmed down, “I’m sure father didn’t send us here for our entertainment.”

“You can say that again,” Terry mumbled, “Looks like the kids had all the fun without us”. He fingered a cracked wall, watching the dent with curious eyes. “Who would’ve thought that Birdie could cause this much ruckus,” he asked. He pulled away from the wall and thick chips of plaster followed him. “Then again,” Terry continued, “There was the time he nearly ripped the chandelier from the ceiling during his tenth birthday.”

Damian gave an amused chuckle as he walked pass, eyeing empty meaningless rooms fruitlessly for clues. “Not to mention the time he nearly broke Blue Jay’s nose while practicing their team maneuvers,” he added. He heard his brother give a loud laugh, before he come to a sudden stop. He let his smile fall from his face – he had a feeling that he just found what they’ve been searching for.

Damian eyed the hole in the wall he paused for, he was sure a door once was there. The remainder of the door-seal was bent at an odd angle, finger shaped dents around the center. The door was ripped open and the person was incredibly strong. “The alien’s clone must have done this,” he thought aloud. He wondered where the door led to when Terry came behind him, dangling a decrepit label that read “Kr” in his lazed grip. “This must have been his cage,” Damian deduced.

“Must have been,” Terry agreed. The man paused after he spoke and Damian was sure that Terry saw the handprints too. The elder gave a sigh once he saw them, before running his sharp-fingered gauntlets into his onyx hair. Damian was reminded of the earlier years, when that habit once cost Terry a few locks of his hair and a few weeks in a hat. “I wish Batman had told us more,” Terry growled. He let his fingers run across the finger indents as he passed into the room. “We don’t even know if Robin and his friends are okay,” he complained. He scoped the room as he entered, his eyes angry but alert. There was a crater that dug deep into the ceiling, glass that littered the floor. Maroon splotches were spotted much more frequently than Terry had wanted. He was livid now. “We’ve been doing this for years,” Terry snapped, “And he still doesn’t trust us enough to tell us if Robin’s in one piece.”

Damian tsked, though he didn’t know if it was because he was in agreement or not. He knew how Terry felt. He understood how trapped he felt. They were kept in the dark, always away from everything and everyone. The very Superman that they were scavenging the place for didn’t even know of their existence. Bruce was all they had as an accomplice in the superhero world. It hurt when their only connection liked kept things from them. Even more so, it hurt when their father, the man that they both admired and aimed to please, kept things from them. Yet he also understood his father.

What Terry couldn’t understand was that it wasn’t them that their father distrusted. He distrusted the world around them. Damian could understand the notion of keeping things away for other’s protection. He’s done it. He kept Terry away from The League of Shadows for years. He held back his bloodlust, not only to please his father but to be seen as someone great by his brother. Damian understood.

He eyed his irritated brother, his balled fists and hurt expression. “Don’t get so wrapped up in it,” Damian eventually said. Damian had much more to say about it, and he knew that Terry could tell, but he will save it for later. Emotions such as these were best dealt with at home, with mugs filled with tea and bowls filled with vegan goulash. “Those things are irrelevant to the task at hand,” Damian said softly. He placed a hand on Terry’s shoulder, the gold of his fingerless gloves shocking against Terry’s red stripe. The touch gave the comfort that Damian hoped it would. He could feel Terry’s tense shoulder loosen under his fingers. “Let’s focus for now,” Damian ordered. He then squeezed his brother’s shoulder, and when Terry turned to face him, he gave the other a devious smirk. “We’ll handle our frustration with father later on patrol,” he said mischievously. Terry softly laughed and Damian was surprisingly happy to hear it. “For now I’ll examine the tubes,” Damian said, “You do… something with the computer.”

“Seriously,” Terry laughed, “ ‘Do something with the computer’?” He plugged in the thumb-drive that Tim gave him and typed in the codes that Tim and Max hammered into his head whenever he could bring himself to listen. “How do people believe that you’re the smarter one out of the two of us,” Terry teased. While he spoke, the super computer sprung to life. The hero couldn’t help but chuckle when little caricatures of his baby brother filled the screen. So Dickie hacked the place first. Good thing Tim gave him the drive. He paused for a moment, looking up from the screen to see Damian’s irritated expression. God, he loved fucking with him “I-“ he began before the words were locked in his throat. While he was teasing Damian, he crack the database wide open. The files for “Project Krypton” were pulled up and next to it was the files for “Project Batman Beyond”. “Nightingale,” Terry called for his brother as he clicked the folder, “You might wanna see…” His voice fell to silence.

“What,” Damian asked as he draped himself over his brother’s shoulder, placing his palm on the desk, “You better not have disturbed me for nothing.” When he was met with silence, Damian finally looked over his brother. The man was rod straight. His Adam’s Apple bobbed uncontrollably. Damian frowned. Terry was stopping himself from crying. “Nightwing,” Damian spoke, “Terry?” When he again got no response he finally glanced over Terry’s shoulder. He could feel his eyes widen as he read. “Project Batman Beyond,” he mouthed, “Clone of Bruce Wayne, Warren McGinnis willing participation, clone fully assimilated?”

Damian was awed. His brother’s entire life was spread out before them. Baby pictures of Terry that Damian never had the pleasure of seeing covered parts the screen. They were followed by gruesome photos of his deceased parents, the words “Mission Accomplished plastered in bright red across their bleeding bodies. Then the various mug shots Terry took during his difficult childhood. The papers that allowed Bruce’s to have full guardianship of Terry was next, then the press conference where Terry was first introduced to the public. It finished with Terry’s first night as Nightwing, a perfect photo of the then sixteen-year-old as he grappled across Gotham’s night sky.   

Damian stared on with his mouth open as he watched. “What is this,” Damian demanded, “Who would dare?” He could feel the rage bubble within him, but stopped when he felt his big brother tense and shiver where Damian’s chest touched his shoulders. “Terry?”

“I’m like him,” Terry whispered to the screen, “I’m a _clone_.”


	2. What Did You Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry goes searching for Bruce and finds Tim instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe this story is going to be a little longer than I expected.... 
> 
> Also sorry if I write Tim a little silly, Tim's my spirit animal, and I like him as kind of a inner goofball but outer badass with no idea how to handle other's emotions. That's honestly why this became long enough to be a chapter. Tim will become more mature and more intellectual once things become more serious.
> 
> Also things to know about Tim:  
> He's 18 here  
> Tim created the Teen Titans two years prior, but he goes under a different superhero name in Jump City (Flamebird in JC Red Robin in Gotham) and has no connections to Batman and the gang while there. He's just another teenaged superhero. His team is pretty much The Team in the second season of Young Justice. So Bart, Jaime, Garfeild etc.  
> He's CEO of Wayne Enterprises

Tim rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He slept more than usual the night before, four hours this time, but he still felt exhausted. He sighed as he tugged irritably at his ruby tie. He wished Bruce’s meeting would end already. He was more bored than tired now. _Though, to be fair,_ Tim thought as he spun lazy in Bruce’s office chair, _I still didn’t know why I agreed to be the CEO of Wayne Enterprises to begin with_. Tim fingering the leather chair’s arm. _Though,_ Tim thought _, The “Brucie” act is probably starting to finally get to Bruce_. _I can help my old man out so he could do it less._ He sighed again. _Damn my kind heart,_ he squealed in his head, _I could be in Jump City right now, getting Bart back on that jockstrap prank. Maybe I should superglue his suit to his body or something._ It was lame, but Tim was tired and it was the best he could come up with. _Maybe I should get Jason in on it,_ Tim pondered, _No, I still owed him a prank for the Nair incident. Man, I had to jeans for the majority of May. Please let this meeting end! My mind is running too much._

He sighed once more, slumping bonelessly on the enormous desk that sat imposingly in Bruce’s office _. I could totally spread my out and sleep on this thing if I wanted to._ Tim blinked when that thought flashed through his head. He then sat up and dumped the rest of his expresso shot into his sugary latte. _I gotta wake up,_ he whined in his head. Tim watched uncaringly as the two intertwined, wondering if he should be put off by the nearly black color the concoction turned into. He raised an eyebrow, before shrugging and taking a huge gulp. “Ugh,” he gagged. He coughed a little and beat a fist on his chest. “Gotta sip, Timmy,” he mumbled. He brought the cup to his lips again, sipping it slowly this time. He let the liquid sit on his tongue as he thoughtfully smacked his lips together. “Huh, I can still taste the milk,” Tim said, “That’s better than last time.” The reached for the cup again, finally feeling the caffeine taking affect. Then the office phone blared. “Thank God,” Tim cheered. He answered the phone,  his coffee cup pressed to his lips. “Yes, secretary of the week,” Tim paused after he spoke. He really has to stop hanging out with Jason. “I mean Miss…”

“Thompson,” the lady replied. Tim can hear the irritation in her voice. “I called to tell you that Terry McGinnnis-Wayne is here to visit Mr. Wayne.”

“Right,” Tim said, putting on his big-boy business man voice. He cleared it again, hoping his embarrassment didn’t make his voice break. “Please send him in, Ms. Thompson.” He hung up the phone, smacking his hand against his forehead. He was such an idiot sometimes. Terry stepped in, his trademark leather jacket missing in the summer heat. He wore a small pair of dark shades that Tim was sure were his, and Terry’s usually styled hair fell floppily in his face. “You look a mess,” Tim joked, “Had fun with Dana last night?”

Tim’s question was promptly ignored, and Tim’s playful smile slid off his face. Terry always rose to Dana bait. Something was wrong. “Where’s Bruce,” Terry asked. He anxiously eyed the room, looking for the man that they could clearly see was not there. “I need to talk to him,” he rushed out. He ran his fingers through his hair and shoved his other hand in his pocket. Something was really wrong.

Tim put his coffee cup down and stepped around the desk. He sat on the edge of it, appearing calm though his was far from it. “He’s in a meeting,” Tim answered. He tucked his hands into his belt loops, making sure they were still visible to Terry, despite the man being on the other side of the room. “He’ll be back in a little while,” Tim continued gently, “You can wait for him if you like, man.” He shrugged easily, although his shoulders were heavy. Never has Tim seen Terry so… messed up. He was always well put together, not posh like Tim, but suave and confident. He’d always had a smile for Tim for as long as Tim has known him – even before they became brothers, when they were just neighbors. “I’m bored as hell,” Tim laughed. He winced, that fake laugh was horrible. “I could use the company,” Tim finished softly, unsurely.

Terry seemed to snap from whatever faze he was in when he heard Tim. His posture loosened and he took a deep breath. “Sorry Timmy,” Terry said. He tiredly brushed his hair from his forehead before pulling one of the chairs in front of the desk to sit in it. “Just had a long night, you know,” he said. He gave Tim a soft smile and Tim knew that the other was resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. “And sorry to tell you,” he joked, “No Dana involved.” His sighed and slumped into the chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. He then reached beside Tim, snatching his coffee cup and took a sip. “Ugh,” Terry gagged, “Dear Lord!” He then paused for a moment and smacked his lips together. “You can still taste the milk,” he said, “So I guess it’s better than last time.” He then shook himself before sitting the cup right back from where he got it from. He should really know better than to drink from Tim’s cup. They had to get Jason’s stomach pumped one year when he was foolish enough to drink all that was in there. “Just don’t spill it,” Terry said as he made a disgusted face at the cup, “Don’t want it to burn through the desk.”

Tim laughed, taking the cup and drinking a sip. “I’m not wasting this goodness,” he said, “It’s keeping me up for at least eight hours.” Terry let a fond smile spread across his face. Tim settled down once he saw it. Something was still wrong, but his elder brother wasn’t on edge anymore. It was progress. “So,” Tim began, “Why do you need to see Bruce?” The easy smile instant slid off of Terry face and Tim wanted to hit himself. He was such an idiot when it came to this type of stuff. “Sorry,” he spurted out. He wanted to slap himself again. “You know what,” Tim sighed, “I’m just going to drink my coffee and shut my mouth.”

Terry laughed. “I’m sure that I just heard Jason cheer somewhere,” he joked. He let his amusement simmer down to a thoughtful expression. He turned to look out of the window, taking in Bruce’s grand view of Gotham City. “It’s hard to think that such a beautiful city can hold such filth,” Terry said. He sat back and nibbled his lip. Tim knew it as a sign of Terry thinking, choosing his words. It was a hard skill for the other to learn. In ways he’s still hasn’t mastered it. “Look,” he said after a few moments, “Just give this to him.” He placed down the thumb drive that Tim gave to him yesterday for his cleanup mission. “Give to him,” he repeated and Tim could hear Terry’s infamous temper as it bled through his forced calm. Just what did Bruce do? “And tell him that I figured out his little secret,” Terry finished. With that he forced the chair back and stormed out of the room.

Tim looked at the thumb drive, the small device so daunting despite its size. Just what was on it? He placed the drive into his fortified laptop to find out. His mouth dropped when he saw the “Project Batman Beyond” files. If they were anything like “Project Krypton” then… _Bruce,_ Tim thought, _Bruce, what the hell did you do?_ He pressed the office phone, ringing for the secretary as he doubled clicked the folder. Terry’s life splashed across his laptop screen. “Put me through to Conference Room 2408,” he said once Ms. Thompson answered. The woman began to speak but Tim hurriedly cut her off. “I know about the damn meeting,” Tim snapped, “I don’t care.” He clicked on each photo, sickening captions that read like progress reports for an experiment filled the bottom. “Put me through to Bruce now,” Tim ordered. The woman began to protest again, and again Tim interrupted her. “I’m CEO of this company,” he said coldly, “And if you actually want to be the secretary of the week then continue to defy me. End the meeting and put me through to Bruce Wayne, Ms. Thompson.” Ms. Thompson gulped and finally did as he asked. The phone buzzed before Bruce’s deep baritone answered. “You better have a good explanation for this, Bruce,” Tim seethed, “Tell me that you haven’t been lying to Terry all of this time or I swear, I will run this company to the ground and you will lose every penny the Wayne family has ever owned!” 

Bruce paused. The last time he’s heard Tim so angry was when his father died. “What are you talking about, Tim,” he asked. Then Tim answered. Cloning, the teen had said, and not just of Clark. There were to be another Batman as well, and that other Batman was _Terry_. His son, his first born was a _clone_. “Hold on,” Bruce ordered. He was in a room full of onlookers but he couldn’t be bother to keep up appearances. “I’m on my way,” he said, “Tell me everything once I get there.” He snapped up from his chair, toppling it over as he rose. “There will be repercussion for what they’ve done,” he growled down the receiver. He then out of the meeting room, as the attenders wondered just who pissed off Bruce Wayne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you enjoyed. I just realized that I love writing Tim!


	3. Clone or Not, They're Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's words could have healed a broken heart if only the right person was there to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now introducing Dick and Jason. I'm apologizing now for an OOC Jason. I like a Jason a little softer before he gets rough around the edges during his Redhood days. Imagine this would be how Jason would have been if he grew up in a healthy family with a supportive dad and brothers. Dick is the Dick Grayson we all know and love from Young Justice, nothing too different there. 
> 
> Things to know about Jason:   
> He's 15 here (his birthday is coming up, he'll be 16 by the time the group really forms)  
> He's still the brat that took the wheels off of the Batmobile (But he was around 9 at the time)  
> He's not apart of any team, but he'll be joining with Roy on a few mission once Roy starts his solo stuff (Though Dickie really wants him to join the Team and Timmy really wants him to join Teen Titans. He's solo because he can't choose between his two favorite brothers.)  
> He goes to Gotham Academy

Dick picked at his wrists. They felt naked without his wrist computer or wristbands. He would even settle for a pair of cufflinks at this point. Instead he was forced to lay on his bed in the manor, wrists naked while the rest of him was nearly covered in bandages. “You know usually people pick at the places with bandages,” one of Dick’s brothers sounded from the door, “Not the places without them.” Dick snapped up from his wrists, by instinct hiding them behind his back. He then sighed and pulled them back out when he noticed that it was just Jason standing in his doorway. “You’re pretty jumpy,” the teen joked as he walked in and sat at the foot of Dick’s bed. He settled himself in, letting a wireless controller hang from his hand. “Not really feeling whelmed,” he asked.

Dick sigh dramatically. “You have no idea,” Dick answered, “I’m definitely not feeling the aster.” He toyed at his wrist again. He really wished he had his computer. “Wait,” he exclaimed. The change in tone startled Jason a bit, the boy instantly sitting at attention. “Is Ter and Big D back yet,” Dick asked, “You think that they’ll get my wrist computer back?”

Jason cocked an eyebrow, confused. “Yeah,” he shrugged, “I think Dame’s back.” He then peeked subconsciously at the door, a frown forming on his face. “But I don’t know ‘bout Ter,” Jason continued, “I haven’t seen him since he left last night.” The elder then tossed the controller he held at Dick. “Besides,” he teased, “You getting that computer back is a pipe dream at this point.”

“What do you mean,” Dick asked. He then hissed loudly when the controller hit him in his bruised ribs. “I swear your aim is crap,” he added as he irately snatched up the controller, “This is why our team ups always go so poorly.”

“Really,” Jason exclaimed, “You’re going to blame that on me.” He then stood from Dick’s bed, playful anger emerging on his face. His crossed arms broadened his shoulders and Dick was reminded of just how big Jason was. How big Dick wanted to be someday. “I can’t help it if you’re lighter than a damn tailfeather,” Jason fussed, “Gain some weight and maybe I wouldn’t overshoot you.” Dick rolled his eyes and Jason gifted the irritated reaction a smug smile. He then flopped back down on the bed and ruffled Dick’s partially bandaged hair, causing the injured bird to tousle in his nest. “And to answer your question,” Jason continued, “You must be smoking if you think Bruce is going to let you anywhere near that wrist…. hacker…. thing.” Dick raised an amused eyebrow. “Dude,” Jason shrugged embarrassedly, “I don’t know what you call that thing.”

Dick groaned. “But I need to get it,” he complained, “I think that I was close to something.” He then sat still, picking at his brother’s controller now. He rolled the face buttons under his thumb. He wished it was the buttons on his wrist computer. “Wait,” Dick exclaimed again. He gave mischievous eyes to his older brother. Jason shook his head before Dick could even ask. “C’mon,” Dick whined, “Do this one favor for me.” Jason was off the bed now, planning  on leaving – his controller be damned. “You really can’t get my computer for me,” Dick asked.

“Sorry Birdie,” Jason shrugged, “I can’t. I’m still in trouble for the Tim Nair incident.” He then sat back down once Dick lost the puppy eyes. “And I still need some breathing room between that and Dame finding out that I sold his handmade shuriken on eBay,” he frown. He then sighed, pulling out Mortal Kombat before tossing it towards Dick. The younger actually caught it this time. “I’d do it any other day,” Jason said, “But I want to see daylight for at least a week this month, and I don’t want my punishment to stretch out to my birthday month, you now.” He leaned back against Dick’s leg. “Gotta plan this stuff out,” he explained. Dick nodded, he understood. He knew better than anyone the repercussions of letting your punishments run into each other. There was one time when Dick was nine that he spent three months inside due to back to back punishments.

“I get it,” Dick sighed, “But still.” He looked on thoughtfully before noticing the game and controller in his hands. He knew that they were there but it was his first time thinking of his brother’s intentions. “I’m not playing you in MK, Jay,” Dick said, “You kick my ass every time.” He then looked at his gaming system which sat on the other side of the room, away from both of them. “Any why did you give the game to me,” Dick asked, “I’m injured! It’s not like I can put it in there.”   

“I know that, idiot,” Jason sassed. He then rolled his eyes and snatched the game from out of Dick’s hands. “I gave it to you so you’ll know what we’re playing,” he said. He then pulled a second controller from one of the pockets in his pajamas. “And we’re playing MK,” he said, “I let you rip me a new one in Street Fighter. It’s only fair.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Fine,” Dick said, “If it makes you feel better about yourself, then sure.” Jason gave him an excited smile before placing the game in their PS4. “I can’t believe you’re this excited about beating a thirteen-year-old at a video game.”

“What do you mean,” Jason said with a smug smile, “I live for this shit.” Dick laughed and the action felt good despite the tug it gave his ribs. “Hey,” Jason said as he picked Scorpion, “Why do you want your computer back so badly, anyway.” Dick selected Subzero as a frown etched across his face. “I mean,” Jason said before he stopped himself. Although he was facing the television, he could still tell that Dick’s demeanor soured. The bed stopped shaking. For as long as Jason knew the kid, Dick’s pent up energy never allowed the boy to sit perfectly still. No matter if it was a chair, a car seat or his bed, everywhere his younger brother sat he rocked it. Jason place his controller down turning back to face his brother. He thought that Dick was just being work obsessed, but now Jason was worried. “What’s up, Birdie,” Jason asked seriously, “What’s on your computer?”

Dick toyed with the controller again, watching as his calloused thumbs rolled over the face buttons and along the analog sticks. “That’s just it,” Dick finally said, “I don’t know.” Dick let out a deep sigh, the sound hollow in the silent room. The boy then looked up, though he focused more on Scorpion’s paused body than his older brother. “I saw a file,” Dick continued, “It was strange and I couldn’t hack into it. It was too fortified, like Timmy and Maxie level of fortified.” Jason nodded as Dick talked, Blue Jay greeting Dick instead of Jason. “It could have been nothing,” Dick continued, “But the name.” He then looked his brother in his teal eyes. “Project Batman Beyond,” he finished.

“Where did you hear that?” Both boys sprung apart, grabbing at their chests as they turned hurriedly to Dick’s open door. Damian stood at the door seal. Though it was his brother, Dick still folded in on himself. He’s never seen Damian so _angry_. He wasn’t shouting, he didn’t even shout when he spoke to them, yet Dick still knew that he was _livid_. Jason did too, if the teen’s anxious expression was anything to go by. “Answer me, Richard,” Damian commanded and Dick flinched. Damian only called him Richard when he was in trouble.

“I-,” Dick began, but his words were stuck in his throat. The silent fury that rolled off of Damian was petrifying. Damian then stepped further into  the room in an attempt to get closer to Dick, but Jason stood nervously in his path. He, much like Dick, has never seen Damian like this before. Yet he would protect Dick anyway.

Damian noticed what that his younger brother was doing and instantly backed down. The last thing he wanted to do was to make his brothers think that they needed to protect themselves from him. “Relax,” he told them as he placed a calming hand on Jason’s shoulder. He slowly ushered the other back to the bed. The teen did as he was silently told and sat back down again. “No matter how upset I am,” Damian assured, “I’ll never hurt any of you.” He then breathed deep, trying with all of his might to relinquish his anger, yet Dick could tell that it wasn’t working. “I’m not angry with any of you,” he said, “And I apologize for scaring you. But I need to know where did you hear that.”

Dick nodded, “I get it, I guess.” He then sighed, picking at his wrist again as he explained. “I saw it while I was hacking Superboy’s pod open,” he described, “But the file was so fortified I couldn’t get in.” Dick then silenced a moment before his eyes lit up in an fearful epiphany. He then sat up, leaning across Jason as he reached for Damian. He pulled the man down and, although Damian was strong enough to stop him, the elder didn’t. “Is there another Superboy,” Dick asked, “But like a Bruce version.” He then leaned in further, his deep blue eyes widening with his desperation. “You have to save them, Big D,” he implored, “We can’t leave them lock away in some tube like they did with SB!” Shock spread across Damian’s face, but it didn’t stop Dick from begging. He even shook Damian’s arm a little. “I mean it, Big D,” he declared, “It doesn’t matter how they were made. They’re human too. If there’s a Bruce clone, then they should be free. Not locked away like Superboy. He doesn’t even have a real name, D. No one should be treat that way.”   

Damian’s shock faded away, a soft fond smile lifting his features. “I see, Littlest One” Damian said. He then clutched Dick’s hand, where the boy still held him, and gave it a short squeeze. “I will,” Damian said. He then let go and faced his other brother. “What of you, Jason,” Damian asked as he eased Dick back into his bed, “Do you wish the same?”

Jason looked put off for a moment, as if he didn’t know how he would answer. Then his face smoothed out, his mental clarity showing in his eyes. “Yeah,” he finally said, “No one should be alone.” The boy nibble his lip, undoubtedly his own lonely childhood littered his mind. “I say bring him here,” Jason said. He then nudged Dick and gave him an sly smile. “We can teach him in the Bird way,” he smiled, “You know, how to throw a decent punch and how to pull the best pranks.”  He then turned serious, matching Damian’s eyes. “You guys gave me a _family_. I’d never deny a family to anyone else,” he then paused and looked his two brothers over, “I honestly don’t know where I’d be without mine. So, bring him here.”

Damian nodded and although he looked to them, Dick knew his mind was elsewhere. “I’ll let Terry know and we’ll get right to it,” Damian said. With that he exited the room.

“That was weird,” Jason commented. Dick nodded in agreement. “Welp anyway,” Jason said as he once again tossed Dick a controller, “Get ready to have your ass handed to you.” Dick sighed and did as he was told. Now he really wanted his wrist computer, at least he could use it to hack the game and put Jason’s foot in his big mouth. “Hey, Birdie,” Jason said after he won the first match, “Do you really think that there’s a clone of Bruce out there somewhere?”

“I don’t know,” Dick answered, “But if there is, then they should be with us, you know.” He then paused, watching the screen as the game loaded the next location. “Not in some basement, waiting to be some villain’s trump card,” Dick said, “Clone or not, they’re _family_.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. PS. Dick Grayson is a sweetheart and should be cherished. This is all.


	4. Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry makes a decision that affects everyone around him. He wasn't as ready for the fallout as he thought he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's any confusion, they'll be ironed out with other stories. Things such as Tim's attachment to Terry, or Jason's and Terry's relationship. Both boys will be getting origin stories after this one ends (Hopefully, I'm so inconsistent though...) 
> 
> Anywho, enjoy.

Terry entered the Wayne Manor, letting its grandiose door close softly behind him. He turned the golden knobs so they wouldn’t creak as the door shut and, just as he wanted, the doors closed in perfected silence. A reminiscent smile graced across his face as he remembered the many times he’s pulled this off with one of his little brothers at his back. “Glad to see you home safe and sound, Master Terry.” The young sighed and sagged his shoulders. He was also reminded of how they got caught each and every time. Alfred Pennyworth gracefully stepped out from the kitchen two rooms away and greeted his charge with a fond smile. He was drying his hands with a white towel, his usually pristine sleeves pushed up to his elbows. “I haven’t seen you for most of the day,” Alfred commented. He then looked Terry up and down, taking him in. “I hope all is well,” the man said.

Terry looked down, unable to meet the man’s eyes. He knew what this was. Alfred knew that things weren’t right. He was simply giving Terry the chance to talk to him about it. Alfred did this constantly when Terry was younger, the days when he would come home with scraped knees and an attituded a mile long. “I’m fine,” Terry answered, just as he did when he was younger and wasn’t ready to talk.

Alfred simply nodded, the way he always did when he received that answer, and returned to the kitchen. “Very well,” he said, “Dinner will be ready momentarily. I’ll bring it up once it’s done.” Terry nodded, before making his way to his room. However, he found himself stuck at the kitchen door once it closed. He listened closely as pots and pans rustled just beyond. The sound always comforted him. It reminded him of home – the home he once had and the home he’s gained. Though now, Terry’s not quite sure where home was. He sighed tiredly, pulling his fingers through his hair as he pulled himself away from the door. He was a mess.

\-----

Tim stood at his older brother’s opened door. Terry’s room was unusually dark. He was sitting alone on the edge of his bed. Tim sighed. Terry looked miserable, and he wasn’t quite sure if there was anything he could do about it. He let his knuckles rattle along the doorframe, the action barely enough for Terry to look in Tim’s direction. “Can I come in,” Tim asked. The words felt so damn foreign on his tongue. Never has he ever had to ask to enter Terry’s room if the door was open. It was an unwritten sign of trust. For Tim, it was an unwritten signed of acceptance.

Terry must of thought the same, since he just looked at Tim as if he was silly for even asking. “Of course you can come in,” he said. He then laughed mirthlessly at himself, placing his head back in his hands. “Am I really such a mess that you have to ask me that,” he asked.

Tim sighed, if he had the luxury of honesty he would have said yes. Terry looked even worst than he did that afternoon. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, mostly from him running his fingers through it. His eyes were bloodshot red. If Tim didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Terry picked up his pot habit again. _His eyes are so irritated,_ Tim thought as he looked at Terry, _He must have been crying for a while._ Then Tim actually took in the room. It was _wrecked_. Clothes were everywhere. A shattered picture frame from Damian’s and Terry’s youth laid cracked on the floor. However, what really caught Tim’s eye was the packed duffle bag that sat in the middle of all the mess.

Tim’s face dropped. _Terry’s leaving,_ his mind fearfully supplied, _He’s actually leaving._ He pulled himself together as best he could, sidestepping the litter to take a seat next to his broken brother. “So,” he began. He gestured timidly to the hurriedly packed bag. Terry followed with his eyes and sighed. “You’re doing that,” Tim asked, “You’re _.._.” The words were fearfully broken, just on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah,” Terry responded. He looked to Tim, eyes so very remorseful. “Yeah,” he repeated. He flopped tiredly along his bed, drained. “You wasn’t supposed to find out, you know,” Terry attempted to teased, “But there’s really no keeping anything from you, Timmy.” He offered his little brother a fond smile. “I’m guessing you read the files, right,” he asked as he frowned once more, “Before you gave them to Bruce. You know that I’m a, you know, clone.” Tim nodded. The conformation of Terry’s soon departure locked his words in his mouth. “Then you know,” Terry continued. He looked around him, at his scattered clothes and ruined furniture, “Why I can’t stay here,” he asked. He tugged at his hair, before the fight simply drained out of him. “I need,” he began waving his arms around, “I don’t know. Answers, explanations, something.” He then snatched himself from his bed, angrily but gracefully. For a moment Tim was reminded of the teen he watched fight in his youth, the boy he looked up to. _Why did this happen to him,_ Tim thought. “I have to get out of here,” Terry finished, “I have to.” He then faced his window, desperation flashing across his face.

Tim started, hasn’t seen that expression since he was too young to understand what it meant – too young to understand how _trapped_ Terry felt in this mansion. Tim remembered that after seeing it, Terry would simply disappear. He would be missing for days before he silently slipped back through the manor’s window. This time, though Tim didn’t know if his brother would return. 

The teen nibbled at his fingernails. He could feel his panic rising. Though Tim wanted what was best for his brother, he also didn’t want for him to leave. “What are you even hoping to find,” Tim asked. He then pulled the thumb drive from his pocket. As he held the small device, he couldn’t deny that he was half tempted to toss it. Though, that wouldn’t take away his brother’s pain. It wouldn’t reverse his discovery. Tim moved to stand next to Terry, staring out of the window with him. _Besides, it has answers,_ Tim thought, _If you just stay for long enough, we can find them together._ “Isn’t this “answers” enough,” Tim asked aloud. He held the thumb drive upwards, bringing the device into Terry’s line of sight. He moved close enough to reach out if Terry were to move. It was silly, but he couldn’t help his irrational fear that if Terry were to leave, he might not get him back. _I didn’t get my father back the last time he left._ The sour thought left Tim shaken. “Look,” Tim started. The panic in his chest was now leaking into his voice. “We can crack this open,” he said, “Find out everything you need to know.” He then touched Terry’s shoulder, turning him from the window to face him. _See me. Remember what you’d be leaving behind,_ Tim begged in his mind _._ “Bruce is already looking into it now,” Tim bargained, “Stay and we can figure out the answers you need.”

“Bruce is looking into it,” Terry asked. He blinked down to his little brother, confusion in his eyes before they finally cleared. “He didn’t know,” Terry whispered, “He never knew.” He then sat down, taking the smaller Timmy with him. “What the hell is going on here,” Terry whispered to himself, “If Bruce didn’t know then…” He looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head free of his running thoughts. “That’s not what matters,” he then said to Tim, “The perps, the case. It doesn’t matter.” He breathed in deep, before placing his hand on Tim’s nape. The teen fit easily in the palm of his hand. With everything that Tim was, Terry sometimes forgot just how small Tim was – how _young_ Tim was. “Look, Tim,” Terry started as he rubbed a thumb along his nape, “I can’t find my identity in those files. That’s something I have to find out on my own.” Tim looked over to him after he spoke. Finally Terry could see the dread in Tim’s eyes. He could hear how Tim’s words were less of a plan, and more of Tim begging him not to leave. He tugged Tim under his arm, hugging him. Leaving was going to be harder than he thought. “I’m sorry Tim,” Terry whispered into Tim’s raven hair, “I have to do this.” Tim moved to snatch away from him but Terry snatched him back. “I’m coming back,” Terry assured and he could feel Tim melt into him, giving in. “Don’t I always,” he said.

“You’re leaving,” Dick whispered. Tim and Terry both slightly pulled away from each other. They gave each other matching looks. It wasn’t a good idea to have the youngest here now. Yet, when they looked up, a fuming Jason and a hesitant Dick were at Terry’s doorframe. Terry opened his mouth automatically to deny it, but his response stopped short when he saw that the youngest could clearly see his packed duffle bag. “I heard everything,” Dick said, “We don’t care if you’re a clone or whatever.” He then stepped into Terry’s room, stepping over a broken lamp to stand in front of his oldest brother. “You’re family,” Dick said, “It doesn’t matter.” Terry quietly called Dick “Birdie”, frowning softly at him. “Don’t Birdie me,” Dick snapped, “It doesn’t matter.” Tears moistened Dick’s voice and broke his words. “Tell him Jason,” Dick called back to the doorframe, “It’s doesn’t matter.”

Jason simply stood at the doorframe, his fists clenched. His jaw bone popped from under his skin as he grinded his teeth together. Terry was sure that if Dick wasn’t in the way, Jason would have decked him. “Let him go,” Jason growled. Dick looked up shocked and betrayed. The youngest began to say something, but Jason stopped him. “Let him fucking go,” Jason repeated, “He’s no different from everybody else.” He cut angry eyes at Terry. “Right,” he continued, “We’ll make it without you.”

Terry sighed. He knew exactly what Jason was doing. He wasn’t actually angry. He was goading him. In their younger days Jason would do this to test Terry’s loyalty, to ask him for things he was too embarrassed to outright ask. ‘I bet you couldn’t get those cookies for me,’ Jason would wager when they were younger. ‘I knew you’d be too scared to leave the good life and go down to the Narrows with me. You punk bitch. Tiny Terry is right’. Terry would play along, let the insults and jabs to his manhood rile him up. Then one day Jason simply dropped the pretenses. The realized that he didn’t have to constantly test Terry’s love, that he could just have it. Jason could just ask him. Terry never thought that Jason would use it again to try to get him to stay. “I’m sorry, Jay,” Terry began, “But I’m at least coming back.”

“Then why are you leaving in the first place,” Dick asked. He shook in front of Terry, trying so hard to be older than he was. His head was bowed and his eyes were squeezed shut. “It’s all my fault,” he mumbled into the quiet room, “It’s all my fault.” The room remained silent after he spoke, all of his older brothers looking to him in confusion. It was only once he noticed the eyes on him that Dick spoke again. “If I had only listened,” Dick explain. He sadly chewed at his lips and roughly rubbed at his eyes. “If I had just not gone on that stupid mission,” Dick continued, “Then you’d…” His voice cracked. He tried his best not to cry but he couldn’t hide his wet face. “I’m sorry, Terry,” he said again, “I’m so sorry.”

Terry grabbed Dick and pulled him closer. “Dickie,” he said. He rubbed at his brother’s hair. It’s been a long time since he held Dick like this. He was just a boy the last time, fumbling over his English and afraid of the shadows in his room. Terry shuttered. He could feel his heart breaking. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he needed this. He needed for them to understand how much he needed this. “It’s not your fault, Dick,” he said. Dick tried to shake his head, but Terry held him closer to stop him. “It’s not your fault,” Terry said again, “It’s no one’s fault. I just am what I am.” He then pulled his littlest brother away. He missed him already. “I just need time,” Terry said, “Please, just give me some time.” Dick snuffled wetly before nodding and backing away to the door.

“Just like that, huh,” Jason sounded. He was still in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest. Though, Terry could hear in his voice that his tough guy act was cracking at the seams. “All this time,” he shrugged, “And it’s just like that.” He then looked Terry directly in the eyes for the first time since he entered the room. “And you weren’t even going to tell us,” he asked, “Were you?” Terry paused at the accusation, stunned by how _right_ Jason was. So lost in Jason’s bravado and brashness, Terry sometimes forgot about his quiet observations. They both grew up looking over their shoulders, and they both knew that they were more observant than they were given credit for. Terry should have known that Jason would find him out. Jason bristled at Terry’s silent admission. “C’mon, Birdie,” Jason said as he snatched Dick by the arm. He then looked at Terry, his teal eyes alit in actual fury. “You’re a fucking traitor,” Jason accused, “I don’t care if you leave, I get it, but don’t fucking lie about it. I fucking trusted you.” He then stormed out of the room with Dick, slamming Terry’s door shut in the process.

Terry sighed deeply. “That couldn’t have gone worse,” Terry followed the voice to Tim standing near the door. Tim had silently slipped from his hold during Jason’s tirade, easing himself to the door. “I can’t say that I truly understand how you feel,” Tim commented from the door. He then leaned against it, his hand to his chin. “I can’t say that any of us can,” he commented, “So none of us can really make this decision for you.” Terry watched as Tim talked. His eyes were elsewhere and Terry knew that Tim has thought it over in his silence. He was letting his mind speak for the moment. “This decision is yours to make,” he continued, “I can understand that much.” He then caught eyes with Terry’s eyes, and for the first time in a long time Tim’s heart was on his sleeve. “Though, if I had a say,” he said softly, “I’d ask for you to stay. This family will be a mess without you.” With that Timmy left Terry alone in his destroyed room.

Terry deflated after Tim left, his entire body slumping onto his bed. He listened to the mansion in his room’s newfound silence. In the distance he could hear Jason trashing his room in his fury. They were so alike, sometimes it scared Terry. He could even hear Dick’s soft sniffling in the room beside his own. He ran his hand down his face, scoffing to himself. “Fuck, Timmy,” he said to his closed door, “This family is a mess with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> PS: Has anyone ever did what Jason did? Like goad people, or trick people into doing things for you? You're not really used to getting things for nothing so you feel like you have to one up people just to get the simplest things? I used to. I was just wondering if any one else does that.


	5. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every tried to talk Terry out of his decision. Finally, he's found someone that understood.

Night fell harshly upon the city of Gotham. The heat from earlier simmered down as a light rain fell from the darkened skies. Terry pulled his leather gloves onto his hands, his helmet held under his armpit. It felt like any other nightly ride, though the duffle bag that hung from his back was a constant reminder that it wasn’t. He stepped from the porch anyway, letting the misty rain darken his hair and leather jacket. “The streets will be slick,” Damian voice carried over to him, “It’ll be foolish to ride so _burdened_ in this type of weather.” Terry turned, finding his brother after he stepped out of the shadow of a looming column. “Maybe you should leave the bag if you’re going on a ride,” he continued.

Terry cracked a dry smile. “That’s the best you got,” he teased halfheartedly. He leaned casually on his parked bike, forging ease. He didn’t want to have this talk with Damian. The metal and silent engine felt welcoming under his back, the familiar feeling urging his desire to leave. He couldn’t talk to Damian now. He was so close. He peaked wantonly to the driveway behind him. “I’d thought you’d try to stop me by force,” Terry continued.

Damian smiled viciously. “I thought of it,” he said. He stepped from the porch, his bare feet slapping wetly on the cobblestone walkway as he approached. “When I saw the littlest one shedding tears for you,” he said his voice matching his wicked smile, “I _really_ thought of it.”  He shoved his hands in his pockets, a clear sign of him holding back. “He doesn’t deserve you abandonment,” Damian snapped, “None of them do.” He then stared Terry down, daring him to counter his statement. “We built this family together, Terrance,” he snapped, “You, Father and I. You should have spoken to us!” He paused then, looking away with a painful expression crossing his face. His fight drained out of him. “You could have at least discussed this with me,” he added, “After all we’ve been through.” He eyed the cobblestones, following lines of water as they ran through the cracks. “We’re brothers,” Damian whispered to the ground below him, “We talk to each other. We always have.”

Terry scoffed, shoving himself so harshly from his bike it tumbled over. He dropped his helmet in his haste and stocked towards Damian. “Brothers,” Terry yelled. He pushed the other man back, Damian stumbling from the unexpected shove. “We aren’t brothers, Damian,” he exclaimed, “You were there! You saw the files! I’m some…” Terry stopped then. “I’m some _thing_ , Damian,” he whimpered. He looked up, and his sky blue eyes were just as stormy as the clouds above. “I don’t know _who I am_ anymore,” he said, “I thought I was Terry _McGinnis-Wayne_ and it took me so long to get there. But now I’m not any of those things.” He slid down dejectedly at Damian’s feet, the rain soaking him softly. “Everything is a lie,” he said, “This family, the fight – it’s all a sham.” He then gave a shaky breath, nasty sobs hidden low in his throat and choking his words. “I..I don’t even know if my original father ever loved us,” he mumbled, “He signed us away, like it was nothing. Just so the world wouldn’t lose their precious Batman.” He tugged at his moist hair, silent tears running down his eyes. “Every time I wear that Nightwing suit, it’s like I’m spitting on Mom and Matt’s graves. Hell, I don’t even know if Nightwing was my choice. As far as I know, it could have just been programmed into my DNA,” he said as he looked up at Damian, “Was anything my choice? Am I in this family because I want to be, or am I just playing into someone else’s plot? I can’t trust who I am anymore, Dame. What am I supposed to do?”

Damian stood shock for a moment. He let the silence and the rain soak into his bones. He let his plain white tank meld onto his golden skin, his raven hair mat to his forehead. He’s seen Terry low, very low. He was there every time the other visited his parent’s grave. He listened to the stories Terry fondly told of his original father, knew the high regards he held the man in. Damian even knew of their fights, but Terry was always convinced that his father had loved him. He knew Terry’s biggest regret – knew that the other felt that he didn’t tell his former family that he loved them enough. He’s seen Terry _broken_ , yet through it all, he’s never seen Terry like this. He’s always rebuilt himself, held onto the love he had for both of his families as his strength. He became a symbol of good for his brothers to look up to – for Damian to look up to. It hurt him to see his brother, his partner, like this.

Damian squatted to Terry’s level, placing a strong grip on his nape. “Do what you feel you must,” Damian finally said, “You’ve sacrificed so much for us, maybe it’s time for us to do the same.” Terry shook his head, preparing himself to deny it, but Damian stopped him. “Yes, you really have,” Damian asserted. He then sat next to his closest brother, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “I know that this might be hard for you to believe,” Damian began, “But I understand.” Terry gave him a disbelieving snort, but it didn’t deter Damian. “I too was a mistake,” he said, “Father didn’t even know that I existed for the first ten years of my life.” He leaned against Terry’s fallen motorcycle, letting the wheels dig into his side in order to be closer to Terry. “I too was a pawn in a much bigger plot,” he said, “Trained since birth to wear a title that I was forced to believe that I wanted. I understand.” He looked to Terry. He never went into details about his childhood. He never spoke in details of the weeks he stayed with his mother. It took him years to even mention his League of Shadows heritage. “It took your companionship to help me discover myself,” he confessed, “I wear my Nightingale persona as a way to forge my own legacy, to display my true self. I was pulled between my mother’s wants and my father’s demands to the point that I had none for myself. You showed me that I could merge my two worlds, make them into something grander than either. That was what I needed.” He patted Terry’s shoulder, standing. He then reached his hand down, pulling Terry to his feet as well. He held the other’s forearm, looking him in his lighter-shade eyes. “If leaving is what you need,” he said, “If it would help you like you’ve helped me, then I can’t stop you, Terry.” Terry pulled back shocked, but Damian only tightened his grip. “Though take note,” Damian ordered, “Nothing or no one can stop you from being my brother. Don’t ever say that you aren’t again. Even if you deem us not brothers by blood, you are still my brother by bond.” He then quickly let go, turning his back. Though he gave Terry his permission, it didn’t mean that he wanted this. “Hurry,” Damian voiced, “The children sent me here to stop you. They’ll be pissed if they knew that I gave you my blessing.”

“I-Thanks,” Terry said. The rain was picking up overhead, making his words harder to hear. “Thanks, Dame,” he repeated, “I promise, I’m coming back. I just need time.” Damian nodded, back still turned. It was another sign of him holding himself back, fighting the urge to grab Terry and make him stay. “Tell them that it wasn’t their fault,” Terry said, “That I love them. That I’ll be back.” He then grabbed his helmet and duffle bag from off the cobbled walkway, picking up his discarded bike before finally driving out of the driveway.

Damian listened as he heard the engine move down the street and into the main town of Gotham. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His body loosened. His heart sank. He doesn’t think that he’s done something so difficult in his life. He let his face grow wet, while the rain continued to pour. At least then, when the others saw him he could blame it on the bad weather.

\----------

Bruce stood amongst Gotham City’s skyline. He let the inky blackness of her dark sky swallow him up. Her usually brightly lit skyscrapers were hidden behind dark clouds as rain continued to fall. Bruce’s shoulders hurt and his voice was raw, yet he still continued to lurk amongst Gotham’s outer boarders. He watched the streets as cars passed by, crossing fearlessly into Gotham (or fearfully out of Gotham). However, it was only one vehicle he was looking for.

Suddenly a black cycle burst from the sheet of downpour, its owner almost hydroplaning across the concrete as he passed. Bruce hopped down onto the highway and placed himself in its path. The bike skirted skillfully to a full stop, only inches from Bruce’s steel-toe boots. “Good to see you, Terry,” he graveled to the bike’s owner. The other pulled his helmet from his face, revealing Bruce’s first born underneath. “I read the files,” Bruce commented, “I have a lead. We’ll have this figured out soon.” The younger man sighed. “Though,” Bruce continued despite the sound, “I know that’s not what you’re looking for.” He leaned onto the side of Terry’s bike, the two blending seamlessly into the dark streets. “You need this,” Bruce said, “I can see it in your eyes.” Terry looked away ashamed. Bruce moved Terry's head back upward, the other's chin held gently between his finger and thumb. “Just be back,” the older finished and released him, “I don’t want to finish this case and you’re not around to hear the results.” Bruce then gave his son a Batman-esque growl from under his cowl. “And trust me,” he said, “I will be getting to the bottom of this.”  

“Bru-,” Terry begun before promptly cutting himself short, “Look, I’m sorry.” He squeezed the handle in his hand. He then looked up to his father desperately. “I don’t know what else to do,” he said, “I know it looks like I’m running, but…”

“You’re not running, son,” Bruce said. He touched Terry’s shoulder, the leather against leather assuring. “You’re searching,” he said, “There’s a difference.” He gave the other a squeeze. “I know that things seem bleak now,” he said, “But it will be fine. Remember, you’ll always have a place with me.” Bruce reached into his utility belt before a shot sounded off. Then he was gone once more, swallowed again by Gotham’s skyline.

Terry paused after Bruce left, looking over his shoulder towards Gotham one more time. Then he replace his helmet and sped pass her boarders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed. That's the official end to this fic. There will be a short epilogue then that it for this. 
> 
> PS: Any feedback on my Bruce. I swear that guy is so hard to peg down.


	6. Epilogue: Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce goes and get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I had some internet problems. Anyway, that's the end of this story for now. The next story in the line up is Tim's origin story.

The rain beat down harshly at the office window. The winds began to pick up, causing ghastly shadows to writhe along the room. Amanda Waller continued on despite the atmosphere. She was due for company tonight and she wanted to make sure all her ducks were in a row before her guest arrived. She didn’t hear her window slide slowly open, but she did notice the shadow that originated from her desk grow in size. “Glad that you could visit,” Amanda called out to the room. A figure emerged from the darkness and Batman, in all his gothic glory, appeared to greet her. “I figured you’d be on your way,” she said, “Your boy did a good job cracking my systems.” She looked up from her typing briefly to acknowledge the other. “Yet _your_ methods,” she comments slyly, “Were messy at best.” She paused in her work, ghosting one of her fingers across her computer screen. “Multiple reports of Batman coming to knock on my former employees’ doors,” she explained, “Asking about a project twenty years too late.” She then pushed away from her desk. She wiped her hands on her pencil skirt and bravely approached the Dark Knight. “Rather sloppy of you, Bruce,” she said, “I thought you’d handle this more quietly.”

Bruce remained quiet after the other spoke. He refused to rise to her bait. He had better things to do than to play cat and mouse with her. Besides, he’s swept the place. He knew that simply placing a hand on her would rise enough alarm for her security to come running. Instead he stepped away, wrapping himself in his cape. “What were your intentions,” he asked, “Have you been manipulating Terry all of this time?”

Even with his cowl, Amanda could still see the furious frown on Bruce’s unshaved face. She snorted a little. “Only enough to be what we needed him to be,” she said, “Your genes were surprisingly strong. All he needed was the right catalyst.” Bruce visibly bristled, shoving his cape behind him. She raised her hand and the man paused at the motion. “You want answers don’t you,” she asked, “Then let’s talk.” She waved a hand towards the door to her office. “You don’t want them to interfere,” she mentioned.

 “So murdering his parents,” he growled, “Was the right catalyst?” Bruce clutched his fist, the sound of compressed leather surprisingly loud in the silence. Anger rolled off of him. “What was even your purpose,” he asked, “Why do this? Why clone me?” Amanda raised an eyebrow. That was an interesting question. “Isn’t a clone of Superman more than enough,” he question and Amanda bit back an amused laugh.

“Clark,” she asked amusedly. Amanda chuckled condescendingly, as if the name was the biggest joke she’s ever heard.  “To the foolish,” she said, “Clark is enough.” She waved her hand and Bruce knew that she spoke of Lex Luthor. “Yet to the rest of us,” Amanda continued, “To the ones that really pay attention, _Batman_ is much more valuable.” She then leaned comfortably onto her desk, letting the wood dig into her thick thighs and under her manicured fingers. She comfortably took Bruce in. She could easily see his self-loathing despite his Batman persona. “I’ve seen you save the world using nothing but your wit,” she said, “Superman may be the brawn, but strength can only take you but so far.” She looked upwards, eyeing her ceiling. “People like Clark Kent need people like you to point them in the right direction,” she recited as though from memory. She then matched Bruce’s eyes again, a small frown gracing her features. “And I wasn’t the only one that knew that. _Ra’s Al Ghul_ knew that too.”  

“Damian,” Bruce named. Amanda nodded. “But he’s two years younger than Terry,” he said. He then looked to his gauntlets, realization dawning on his face. “They’ve been planning Damian,” he began, “And you knew.” Amanda cut him off.

“For years,” she finished. She tapped her fingernail on her desk with a thoughtful frown. “Ra’s knew what he wanted,” she explained, “You. Yet, he also knew that he couldn’t have you. So he used his daughter to create a version of you that he could have.” She rubbed her fingers under her chin. “One that he could mold into anything he wanted them to be,” she said, “He may not have been able to obtain Batman, but he could claim the Son of Batman as his kin.” She sighed, a rueful smile on her face. “It was smart,” she said, “But we – _I_ couldn’t allow that to happen. At the time, the League of Shadows was too much for our budding CADMAS to take on – especially head on. So, I took a page from Ra’s’ book.” Amanda looked Bruce in his eyes. “We would make a Batman of our own, too,” she declared, “And have him on our side; ready to counterbalance whatever Ra’s cooked up.”

“It seemed as though your plan fell through,” Bruce commented, “Terry would never hurt Damian.” Despite his cold demeanor, Bruce felt pride bloom in his chest. He knew that once upon a time he couldn’t say that so confidently.

Amanda smirked. “Did it though,” she questioned. She pushed away from her table, stepping further into Bruce’s space. “I only wanted Damian stopped,” she said, “And judging by the lack of dead bodies, he was. While Terry didn’t take Damian out in the way that we planned, he still eliminated the threat.” Bruce paused, only slightly, but it was enough for Amanda to notice. “He may have done it differently than we planned,” she said, “He always did things _differently_ , but he always completely the tasks we set out for him. Terrance chose to see the Grey Ghost movie instead of the western we chose for him, but he still went to the movies. His parents were still killed that night.” Amanda smile widened. She knew it was checkmate. “He ran away from the orphanage before we were able to place him with you,” she continued, “But still, four years later, he ended up on your doorstep. He’s may not be the perfect Batman replica we wanted but he’s still a hero. He’s still protecting Gotham, just as CADMAS intended. He may not be what we _planned_ for him to be, but he’s still just what we _wanted_ him to be.”

Bruce lost his patience. He snapped forward, grabbing her by the front of her blouse. “He’s not some puppet,” he growled at her, “He’s not some plaything!” He could feel her heartbeat behind his fingers and he relished in her panic.

“I know,” she said and although her racing heart told of her fear, her voice was smooth and calm. She placed a gentle touch around Bruce’s gloved wrist. “I didn’t believe so at first,” she said, “But I know now.” Bruce slowly released her, his eyes asking for an explanation. “I thought I knew what manipulation was,” she said, “But Terry was only a prototype – a first generation clone. Things could have been much worse for Terry.”

“There are others,” Bruce confirmed. Amanda nodded. “How many,” Bruce asked. However he knew that the question would remain unanswered. Heavy footsteps were sounding down the hall. He had to leave before they arrived.

“Terry’s the lucky one,” Amanda said. Bruce was already gone after she spoke, yet she let her words carry on into the empty room. Although Bruce wasn’t around, she knew that he could still hear her somehow. “I let Terry keep his freewill,” she said, “I may have led him, but Terry always had a choice.” Multiple soldiers burst into her office then, machine guns at the ready. However Amanda raised her hand and ordered them all to pause. She had something else to say. “Others weren’t given that choice.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you liked this chapter. It was going to be a oneshot but I decided to split it. May be 4 or 5 chapters idk really. If you have any suggestions on any other stories, let me know, I'm curious.


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